


Shelter of Stars

by CarolPeletier



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-25
Updated: 2020-11-25
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:08:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27703927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CarolPeletier/pseuds/CarolPeletier
Summary: The new world is dangerous and desolate.  When lone traveler Daryl Dixon and his dog stumble upon a campsite while out hunting, they quickly discover another lone survivor in desperate need of help.
Relationships: Daryl Dixon/Carol Peletier
Comments: 2
Kudos: 31





	Shelter of Stars

Disclaimer: I own nothing from The Walking Dead. All characters belong to the creators of the television series and graphic novels.

Shelter of Stars

Chapter 1: Help

Brown leaves crinkled under heavy boots. A biting wind shook the bare branches all around him. A strong hand gripped the strap of a crossbow that rattled against a weary back. The soft patter of paws against the dead leaves added to the prelude of the incoming storm’s symphony. 

He’d traveled further from his camp than usual, but he’d tracked a deer up until a half-mile ago. With the storm rolling in, now his objective was to find shelter to wait out the storm and keep the chill off until it passed and he could get back home.

When the dog at his side stopped fast in his tracks and sniffed the air to the west, Daryl turned his gaze in that direction, tightening his grip on the strap of his weapon. Dog whimpered and sniffed the air again, and he nudged a cold, wet nose against Daryl’s palm.

“Smoke. Good boy.” He hauled his crossbow off of his shoulder and carried it out front, keenly aware that smoke meant people, and people weren’t always friends. Still, smoke often meant a house or a campfire, and that meant food and shelter. He knew enough not to get too close. He’d come across too many lonesome survivors who’d let isolation, fear and paranoia get the best of them. This world wasn’t made for those people. This world was made for people who were used to the dark, the cold, the fear, the quiet. It was made for people who’d been through hell and made it out alive.

Regardless of where or who the smoke led to, that storm was coming fast.

He adjusted his pack over his shoulder and held his finger over the trigger of his crossbow. He uttered a soft grunt, and a nod, and the dog took off a few steps ahead of him.

“Whoa,” he urged. “Not too fast, boy.” The dog looked back to him, licked his chops and sniffed the air again. That only meant one thing. He smelled food. “I know. I know you’re hungry. I am too. Them squirrels didn’t get us far, did they? Huh?” The dog did a full circle around his human companion before taking off again, this time keeping close to his friend.

They crossed through the dense mass of towering trees until the distinct aroma of rabbit cooking over a fire was strong enough to make his stomach growl and his mouth water. Dog was about to go crazy, but he knew better than to leave his human’s side. He whimpered, and Daryl calmed him with a scratch behind the ear. 

It wasn’t long before the wind picked up again, and this time, he faint rattle of something metallic filled the air. Daryl clutched his crossbow a little tighter and tucked the hood of his poncho over his head. Soft raindrops began to patter down, tapping against the dead leaves and dropping the temperature a noticeable few degrees. 

The tinny rattle drew closer as Daryl carefully stepped over thick, knotty tree roots and kept his eyes trained all around. 

It wasn’t long before he first spotted a small camp fire with a skewer rigged up to hold the cooking rabbit carcass over the flames. Dog whimpered again, and Daryl held his hand up. Reluctantly, he lowered his head and let out what was almost a huff of a breath. Daryl shook his head and made a mental note to let the poor animal have an extra helping of food tonight, if they managed to get anything good.

He kept his gaze trained on that fire. A cooking animal meant someone was close, and he wasn’t about to get too close. Not when he’d spent his last bullet on one of the dead three nights ago.

A few more steps brought into view a perimeter of tin cans on a string along the tree-line. The perimeter was at least fifty feet from the fire which told Daryl whoever set it up wasn’t taking any chances. And as he stepped closer, the silver backside of an airstream trailer came into view. 

Dog whimpered once again, and Daryl crouched down against a fallen tree. He quickly checked his surroundings before placing his crossbow next to him. Dog settled down in the leaves beside his human, and Daryl shrugged his pack off of his shoulder. He could see well enough from where he was, but he wasn’t taking any chances. 

He fished out a pair of binoculars and used them to survey the campsite.

The tin-can string did mark a whole perimeter, and the airstream trailer was hitched to the back of an old Jeep Cherokee. About ten feet back from the small trailer was a mound of dirt, clearly marking a grave. It wasn’t fresh. Weeds were starting to pop up through the cracks in the dried earth. It’d been three, maybe four months. And judging by the length of the weeds grown up by the tires of the trailer, whoever stayed at that camp had to have dug that grave.

Now the only question was whether or not the person currently inhabiting the camp was the owner of that trailer, or if they’d overtaken the camp and killed for it. Daryl had seen a lot of shit in the past half year. Absolutely nothing would have surprised him.

He’d seen people kill for a package of stale crackers or a single gallon of gas. He’d helped people on the roadside suffering mortal wounds, not from the dead, but from the living. The dead were a threat, but the living were now forced to survive. This world had a way of twisting the living, and that was more terrifying than any of the dead could ever be.

Dog’s ears perked up again, and Daryl narrowed his eyes at him. 

“You see somethin’?” Dog whimpered, and his tail whipped back and forth. And a split second before Dog took off toward the trailer, a muffled cry rang out from the campsite. Before Dog could even clear the tree line, a loud crash from inside the trailer had Daryl on his feet and rushing after his four-legged companion.

“Dog! Hey!” he growled out, his voice low but loud enough he knew the dog could hear. Still, Dog kept going, expertly leaping over the low, tin-can string perimeter. Daryl’s stomach sank when Dog hurried up the steps and through the wide-open door. He braced himself for a gunshot or a yelp from the dog. But, instead, the dog began to bark, much like he did when he found a critter caught in one of Daryl’s snares.

Daryl ducked under the perimeter and hurried across the yard, noticing the now charred carcass of the rabbit beginning to harden into an inedible, rock-hard mass.

As he climbed the steps into the trailer, he saw Dog’s tail whipping back and forth in a frenzy, and he was licking something. It wasn’t until Daryl stepped in all the way and turned past the small counter against the wall that he saw exactly what Dog was doing.

A woman with short, dark hair was sprawled out on the floor, one hand up by her face, the other over the heavy swell of her pregnant belly. Dog was licking her, trying to wake her as he’d done the day he’d discovered Daryl unconscious on the riverbed, beaten within an inch of his life. 

“Whoa. Hey. Hey.” He tugged at Dog’s collar, bringing him back a little, and he knelt down next to the woman. He felt her cheek with the back of his hand. Her skin was warm, and she was breathing. He pressed his fingertips against her neck, feeing her thready pulse. “Miss? Miss?” Daryl gently patted her cheek, and she groaned softly, her eyelids fluttering, her eyes bleary and unfocused.

“No,” she choked out. “Please, don’t hurt my baby. Please don’t hurt me.”

“It’s alright,” he promised. “I ain’t gonna hurt you.” She let out a little whimper before her eyes rolled back again and she drifted into unconsciousness. Dog let out a whine and nudged his nose against her cheek. “C’mon. Back. Back. Give her some air.” He started to hoist her up into his arms, shocked at how light she felt in his arms. But it wasn’t until he took a step back and looked around for a place to lay her that he saw the puddle of blood on the floor right under where she’d been laying.

*~*~*~*~*~*

The storm raged for hours. Inside that little airstream trailer, Dog huddled under the foldout kitchen table, occasionally brushing a paw over one ear when thunder shook the windowpanes. The smell of blood was thick, but it was nothing new. Not now. Not before. She was still pale and weak, and she’d drifted in and out of consciousness, which had probably been for the best considering the agony she’d been in during her lucid moments.

By the time the storm passed, leaving a frigid chill in the air, the clouds drifted away and left a black canvas filled with bright stars in their wake. She was quiet now, resting under thick blankets. Dog was perched in the front of the trailer, fogging up the window as he kept watch for danger.

“My baby.” He turned at the sound of her voice coming from the back of the trailer. “Oh God. My baby!” Dog’s ears perked up, but he didn’t leave his post. Daryl quickly grabbed one of the battery-powered lanterns and stepped to the back of the trailer.

“Hey, it’s ok.” He watched her squint into the light, and he put the lantern down by the bed before turning on another one. “You’re ok.” She gathered the blankets up around herself and tried to sit up, crying out as her aching muscles pulled and twinged. “Carol, right? Think that’s what you told me. But you was out of it. It is Carol, isn’t it?” She nodded, and she started to move but paused when her head went swimmy. Hey, you lost a lotta blood. You’re gonna be ok, but you gotta rest.” 

“Is he ok? He’s not crying.” Carol looked around, and Daryl looked over his shoulder for a moment before looking back to her.

“You been out a couple hours. M’gonna fix somethin’ for ya to eat. Gotta keep your strength.”

“I want my baby. Please…” Daryl nodded then, and he reached to prop a pillow under her back. “Please…uh…”

“Daryl.” He drew back, and Carol settled back against the pillow. 

“Daryl. Th—thank you.” He ducked his head in a nod and met her gaze for a moment. “Is he ok?”

“Everything’s fine,” he promised. “Lucky you didn’t draw a hundred walkers the way you was carryin’ on.” By the little half smile on his lips, he was clearly teasing, but judging by the worry in her eyes, it fell flat. “Don’t worry. I kept a look out.” He turned then and walked back to the front of the trailer. On the fold out table, he’d placed a laundry basket with some blankets folded in the bottom. 

Carol curiously watched him reach down and lift a bundle into his arms. He carefully stepped to the back of the trailer, and Carol could hear a little cry from the blanket in his arms. He carried the little one like an old pro. He placed the tiny baby in her arms, and she gasped softly. Daryl brought the light a little closer, and Carol peered down at the little pink face. 

“He’s really small,” she whispered, concern coating her voice. She glanced at Daryl. “He’s a he, right? I thought I heard you say it’s a boy.”

“You remember that?” Daryl asked.

“Unless I dreamt it. I don’t…”

“No, ya didn’t dream it,” he assured her. “That all you remember?”

“Hmm. Everything went dark after I heard him cry.” She took a shaking breath. “I thought I was gonna die.”

“You ain’t been eatin’ enough.” Carol eyed him.

“How’d you know?”

“Ain’t hard to tell. That rabbit? You catch it?”

“I have a snare outside. That one on the fire was the first one that came along for a week. I’ve been in labor for days, and every time I tried to eat, I’d get sick.” She frowned and looked down at the baby. “Is he ok?”

“He’s small, but that ain’t unusual in this case.” Carol met his gaze, and she furrowed her brows but said nothing. Daryl got up then, leaving Carol to bond with her son, and she looked down at the little boy, memorizing his little nose and his blue eyes. The little tuft of reddish-brown hair atop his head was thin and sparse. He looked too small to be in the world, but he was breathing and had a strong grip on her finger.

She didn’t even look up when Daryl came back by the bed until he cleared his throat. She looked up at him, and her gaze fell upon another blanket in his arms. This time, a little pink hand poked out, and long fingers stretched out. 

“What…”

“Pretty sure ya saw this one right before ya blacked out again, but I ain’t surprised you don’t remember.”

“Is that…”

“Well, she ain’t mine,” Daryl said with little snort. “She’s got your eyes. More hair’n her brother’s got, though.” Carol watched him rock the baby gently in his arms. He stared down at her for a long moment, and she watched him swallow the lump in his throat. “They got names?”

Carol sniffled and wiped at her eyes with her free hand. 

“Well, I didn’t have _one_ picked out, let alone two.” She watched Daryl ease the baby down into the crook of her other arm. “Oh my God. Oh my God. Hi.” She sniffled, and her shoulders started to shake. Daryl eyed her, and she shook her head. “I’m sorry. I…”

“Well, you ain’t gotta apologize to me. You been through a lot. All alone, looks like.” Carol sniffled and nodded her head. “You got anything for ‘em to eat?”

“Some formula in the Jeep, but I’d like to try nursing. Formula’s just in case…you know, they don’t have me. I want to save it.” Daryl nodded grimly, and he rubbed the back of his neck.

“M’gonna cook us up some supper.” As if on cue, baby boy began to cry, while baby girl snuggled against her mother’s chest. 

“Oh, oh, you’re hungry, aren’t you?” Carol cooed. She looked down at both little ones, clearly overwhelmed and terrified. Daryl reached down and gently lifted the little girl from her arms. 

“Why don’t I keep an eye on her while ya feed him? She’s sleepin’ good for now.” 

“Are you sure?”

“Wouldn’t offer if I wasn’t.” He cleared his throat. “You, uh, know what to do and all that?”

“Yeah,” she sniffled. “Thanks.” Daryl nodded then, and he gently carried the baby girl off, pulling a privacy curtain across the front of the bed and taking the baby back to her makeshift bed. He stared down at her, watching her yawn and stretch in her sleep, and a sad smile tugged at his lips.

“You keep on sleepin’ so your mama can feed your brother. I know all you wants your mama right now, but I’ll take good care of ya ‘til she’s ready for ya, ok?” The baby girl yawned again, her little jaw moving in a sucking motion as she slept. One of her legs poked out from the white blanket she was wrapped in, and Daryl couldn’t hep but chuckle to himself. Newborns had always reminded him of little frogs with their long, skinny legs. “Guess if your mama don’t pick a name for ya, she can always call ya Miss Froggy, right?”

_Author’s Note: I know I’ve been away for a while. New promotion, new job, lots of stuff going on in life. I’m excited about this story, and I hope you’ll enjoy it. Please leave me some feedback and let me know what you think! <3_


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